


White Harbour

by Stevie3



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 02:44:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17174372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stevie3/pseuds/Stevie3
Summary: Standing at the prow, waiting to dock at White Harbour, Daenerys looks behind and ahead.The soft beginning for season 8 we will probably not be getting.





	White Harbour

The waves were wild when they were sailing towards the bay of White Harbour.

Jon had followed the sound of crashings belowdecks, worried that the precious dragonglass they had stowed in the hold was not secure. Daenerys had started sending ships filled with dragonglass to the North even before venturing beyond the Wall, but since she had seen what was waiting for them every shard that was mined was shipped northwards immediately. Even on the royal flagship.

Daenerys was keeping an eye on the horizon, trying to keep her queasiness at bay, the wild bucking of the ship abiding now that they had passed the harbour's mouth. It really was a beautiful sight, this city of the North, she thought, marvelling at the cityscape blanketed in the white snow of the previous night. She could already see the people of the city waiting by the quays to greet their King. Or ogle at a dragon, human or otherwise.

 

A muffled thump came from below, followed by cursing from the Northerners and angry Dothraki from her bloodriders. Daenerys sighed.

"Missandei, would you be so kind as to go see what the problem is? It seems to me that there might be some need for a translator in the hold," Daenerys smiled at her friend, trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice.

"Of course, Your Grace," Missandei replied, bowing her head, not fully hiding a smile. As she turned to enter the hold a scowling Jon Snow stepped on deck.

"Hells! Can someone please tell the Dothraki we need to move their horses to the back of the hold and that this does not warrant waving arakhs around? If they don't like us touching their precious horses they can bloody well do it themselves!"

"Yes, Your Grace," Missandei murmured, now bowing her head preposterously low so the King in the North would not see her smirk. How far she had come from that timid slave girl, Daenerys mused.

Jon did not correct her on calling him a king. Daenerys didn't know if he had even noticed. As much as Jon Snow hadn't wanted the title, the command suited him.

 

Facing the coast again, now coming ever closer, she saw Jon stepping up to the railing next to her out of the corner of her eye. As always, the sight of him threw her of balance a bit. Even now, knowing all too well what that thick fur cloak was hiding, she could feel her fingers twitching, yearning to reach out and touch him, convince herself that he was real. It was a beautiful winter's day with a crystal clear sky but there was a bite in the air turning even his cheeks a delicate pink. She heard Tyrion clear his throat on her other side, signalling her that she was staring again.

 

\+ + +

The Balerion was by no means a small ship, but keeping her nightly activities a secret was impossible. A queen was always being watched. Daenerys hadn't even tried looking embarrassed when Tyrion barged in, the morning after their first night together. Jon woke up by the door banging open, his first reaction grabbing his sword. Once he saw who it was and realising he was standing in the middle of the room naked he flushed a fascinating shade of beetroot red and grabbed his breeches instead. Meanwhile Tyrion was giving Daenerys his best disappointed father impression, only to be met by a frostily regal lifted eyebrow from Daenerys, which was impressively arresting even when only half covered by the furs on the bed and her silver hair a terrible mess. Tyrion chose to ignore the naked Northman now hopping on one foot putting on trousers with a mortified expression as if he wanted the ship to swallow him whole.

"Your Grace, I feel this is something we should discuss."

Without breaking eye contact she sat up, holding a sheet to cover herself and reached out to wrap a hand around Jon's forearm. He stilled in his search for his shirt at the contact.

"I agree, Lord Hand."

 

She had succeeded in convincing Tyrion that denying the attraction between the two monarchs was a lost cause. The hopeful look on Jon's face when he realized this was not something she wanted to hide broke her heart a little. She made a mental note to herself then to legitimize him. Or better yet, marry him while he was still a bastard. What better way to show Westeros that bastards were not defined by their birth?

He had paled a bit once Tyrion had started planning their wedding but had explained to her later in private that it was the thought of being King of all of Westeros that was daunting. He hadn't even wanted to be King of one kingdom, let alone seven.

In a halting way that made what he said even more charming, he had confessed to Daenerys that he was slightly pissed at Tyrion for bringing up marriage first. He hadn't stopped thinking of her since seeing her for the first time in the throne room of Dragonstone and though the timing was horrid and they would both catch a veritable shitstorm from their allies when the news got out, he couldn't help it. He needed Daenerys to breathe properly. After that little speech she did steal his breath with kisses and they didn't resurface until Daenerys' hair was thoroughly messed up again and Jon had flushed a very interesting palet in response to all that Daenerys had whispered in between the kisses. She was determined to keep cataloguing all the colours she could bring to his face and the shades she could discover in his dark eyes.

 

But they had promised Tyrion to be discrete. To not show up with mussed up hair every moment they could steal. To stop with the whispering and moonstruck smiling at dinner. And for the love of all that was good and holy to keep it down at night. All to give the Northern Lords a little time to get used to the idea of Daenerys and her dragons, before forcing them to accept her as their queen by marrying their king.

\+ + +

 

So here they were, doomed to keep their hands to themselves, at least until they left White Harbour, and even then they were reminded by an unusually stern ser Davos that the canvas walls of the tents used to travel from White Harbour to Winterfell were even less prone to keep noises in than the wooden walls of their cabin. This was underlined by a scowling Clegane looming over the three of them. Clegane and ser Davos had been trying for some time to get the other passengers to trade cabins, to no avail. Nobody wanted to sleep next to the royal cabin.

 

Daenerys huffed and rolled her eyes at Tyrion before turning to look at the approaching harbour again. She saw the merman banners clearly now, and the smartly dressed lord awaiting them. Though recognising Wyman Manderly from afar was hardly difficult. Jon had described the Lords of the North and she now saw why Manderly was dubbed Lord Too-Fat-to-Sit-a-Horse. Standing proudly next to their grandfather she saw what must be Wynafryd and Wylla Manderly, dressed in resplendent blue and green. She saw their guards holding tridents and wondered if this was as efficient a weapon as the spears of her Unsullied. Since Daenerys could see who was standing at the shore this meant they could see who was standing at the prow of the ship.

 

" **KING IN THE NORTH!** "

Daenerys' breath halted when every man and woman at the shore greeted their King and knelt together on one knee. The men held their swords and tridents aloft as a salute and Daenerys released a shaky sigh at the feeling of a steadying hand at her back under her cloak. She sneaked another look at Jon out of the corner of her eye. He made a fine figure of a King, this lover of hers. He held his chin high while regarding his people, his eyes looking for familiar faces.

She saw him narrow his eyes near the end of the dock. When she followed his eye she saw a slight figure apart from the rest of the crowd next to a mountain of fresh snow. She was starting to feel an unease since this person was the only one not kneeling and distractedly Daenerys plucked the invisible thread that was the bond between her and her dragons. She felt they were near but very high up to avoid being seen. Close enough if their Mother thought she might be in trouble. She was about to ask them for an intimidating roar when Tyrion let out a disbelieving laugh next to her. "Seven Hells, he's gotten huge, Snow!"

 

The mountain of snow _moved_.

_Ghost_.

Which meant the figure next to the Direwolf must be...

 

She felt Jon almost physically recoil when the realisation hit him. He looked around quickly, frantically, and headed for the side of the ship where he paced restlessly, keeping an eye on the end of the dock. The moment the sailors tossed ropes down to the men on the dock Jon stopped pacing, frowned, grabbed the railing, and jumped over.

Making a very undignified noise, Daenerys lunged at the railing to see Jon already on his feet, having landed in a drift of snow on the quay 8 feet below. Daenerys felt her heart stammer back to life. She was not the only one on deck hanging over the railing, still catching her breath. She heard ser Davos mutter next to her, something about Jon being determined to put him in an early grave, and she saw the Baratheon boy gripping the railing as if he were about to leap as well, his eyes fixed on the figures at the end of the dock, now breaking at a run to get to Jon faster.

 

She smiled when she heard Jon laughing and saw him wrapped in his little sister, gripping her tightly. What Daenerys could see of Arya's face looked like Jon. The dark hair, the soulful eyes and that wide grin she had seen here and there when it was just Dany and Jon talking. Jon dropped to his knees with Arya still in his arms. Huffing, his Direwolf circled them, pushing his weight against them, asking for attention. One of Jon's hands curled in the longer hair of Ghost's neck as he pressed a kiss against Arya's forehead.

 

Daenerys felt a hand at her elbow.

"Ready to meet the family, Your Grace?" Tyrion asked.

Daenerys shook herself, she saw the faces in the crowd clearly now. She saw them smile at the sight of Starks reuniting, but the expressions soured when they looked at the ship. Daenerys gulped, she couldn't help but curse Jon a little bit for abandoning her to face his people alone. She put on her queenly mask and clasped her hand in front of her. She gave Tyrion a nod.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously, I do not own this work or any of the characters. The image of Jon and Arya hugging on their knees with Ghost curled around them is all me however.  
> Arriving at Winterfell will probably be something of a clusterfuck for the characters, so I'd like to imagine Arya getting stir crazy in Winterfell. A raven arrives, announcing the arrival of Jon and Daenerys at White Harbour at which point Arya sneaks out of Winterfell without Sansa knowing and finding Ghost already waiting for them. They arrive at White Harbour where the two of them proceed to creep the Manderlys out for a couple of days until a ship is spotted.
> 
> There's a lot of stealing/stuttering of breath and messy hair in this fic, sorry about that. But just imagine standing on that deck on a beautifully clear winter's day with the ghost of curls sliding through still in your fingers.


End file.
